


As the Adrenaline Starts to Fade

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: October? No, I think you mean Whumptober [12]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Episode: s01e11 Alone Time, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: Prompt No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHINGBroken Down| Broken Bones | Broken TrustBut now Malcolm is in danger. In the house where everything began, no less. Gil can only pray he's not too late as he pulls out his gun and races up the front steps.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: October? No, I think you mean Whumptober [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947595
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	As the Adrenaline Starts to Fade

After far, far too long — after a volley of insinuations and veiled insults — Martin _finally_ tells him where Watkins may have taken Malcolm. Tells him about the hidden passage in the basement of the Milton family home. 

Gil doesn't even want to think about what Martin used the secluded and well-concealed space for all those years ago, and he doesn't have time to dwell on decades old crimes right now, anyways. Not when Malcolm is in the hands of a delusional serial killer.

The drive passes in a blink, almost startling Gil as he pulls up to the front door that he knew so well all those years ago. His past with Jessica is complicated, but he's never regretted any of it. Not for a minute. Things may not have worked out between them then, but it allowed him to form a lifelong friendship with Malcolm, and Gil wouldn't trade that for the world.

But now Malcolm is in danger. In the house where everything began, no less. Gil can only pray he's not too late as he pulls out his gun and races up the front steps.

He doesn't knock, taking a liberty he would never allow himself at any other time. He doesn't know what Watkins might be able to hear from the basement, though, and can't afford to tip the man off. So he cautiously eases the door open, scanning the foyer before stepping through and closing the door behind him as quietly as he can. Sticking close to the edges of the hallway to avoid any worn floorboards, he heads directly for the basement, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by a loud crash and a scream from upstairs.

He changes course and moves fast, taking the stairs two at a time as he rushes to the sound of Jessica's terrified shouts, arriving at her bedroom in time to see Watkins raise an axe over his head, poised to bring it down on Jessica as she shields Ainsley with her body.

Two shots center mass takes the man down, but even as Gil kicks the axe away and ensures John is no longer a danger, he can't help but worry what John being up here means for Malcolm. As soon as he's confident Watkins no longer poses a threat, he turns to Jessica, dropping to a knee in front of her.

"Jess, it's over," he says quietly while he reaches out to lay a comforting hand on her arm. He knows she wants him to stay, and he wishes he could be there for her, now more than ever, but he needs to find Bright. "Stay with Ainsley. An ambulance is coming."

"Gil," Jessica says, valiantly trying to hide her trembling lip. "You can't leave us."

"I have to find Malcolm," he says simply.

As expected, it's more than enough. Jessica nods and pulls Ainsley even closer while Gil pushes to his feet and rushes from the room, moving just as quickly as he did on his way up. It takes him a frantic moment of searching to find the secret entrance in the basement, but then he's pushing through and making his way down the dark and winding pathways beyond. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he approaches the door where Martin suggested Malcolm would be kept. Call it a sixth sense, or a cop's intuition, but he _knows_ something is wrong. 

He raises his gun as he opens the door, unsure of what to expect, but holsters it immediately when he sees the only thing in the concrete room is Malcolm, curled up on the floor in a pool of blood.

"Bright?" It's little more than a whisper, terror stealing his words away as his mind screams at him that he took too long, that he's too late.

But then Malcolm lets out a broken sob and Gil nearly collapses as a wave of relief washes through him so intensely that his knees threaten to buckle. At least he knows that Malcolm is still alive. He runs to the kid's side, falling to his knees next to him, only stopping himself at the last second from laying a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. 

He can only imagine what Bright has gone through in the last twenty-four hours, and he instinctively understands that, as much as he wants to assure himself that Bright is okay, touching Malcolm may not be the best idea right now.

"Bright?" Gil says quietly, not wanting to startle Malcolm with his sudden presence. "You're okay now, kid. It's over."

The sob he gets in response makes Gil's heart shatter in his chest, and then Malcolm's mumbled words grind those broken fragments to dust.

"Not real. Not real. You're not here," Malcolm manages between shuddering breaths. The kid is shaking like a leaf, a subtle vibration that racks him from head to toe, and Gil can't tell if it's fear, cold, shock from his injuries, or a combination of everything. "Not real."

It kills him that he doesn't know how to help, that he's afraid to even try. He knows he needs to find where all the blood is coming from but he also understands that a fractured mental state may be the most severe injury Malcolm is facing, and Gil is terrified to do something that makes it worse.

The one thing he knows for sure is that the room is freezing, and Malcolm is lying on the cold concrete with bare feet, clad in only his dress pants and a thin, blood-soaked shirt. Knowing there's at least one thing he can do for the kid, he slips off his jacket and very slowly, very gently, lays it over Malcolm's body. All it seems to do is make Malcolm shake harder, his breathing becoming dangerously close to hyperventilating.

"Malcolm, can you hear me? It's Gil." He keeps his voice low and even, trying his hardest not to scare the kid any more than he already is, but Malcolm curls himself tighter at the words, burying his face in his arms.

"Stop, stop, stop," Malcolm whispers, barely audible, even in the nearly silent room. "You can't be here. You're not real."

If Gil could kill Watkins all over again, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He doesn't know what the man did to Malcolm to break him down so completely, but Gil has never been more frightened in his life that he won't get Malcolm back from this one.

He decides, as risky as it is, to reach out. To prove to Malcolm that he really is there.

"Bright, I'm here. I promise. And I'm gonna put my hand on your arm now, okay?" Gil says slowly before he reaches out. Malcolm seems so small curled up beneath his jacket that Gil almost expects the small frame of that confused and panicked kid from twenty years ago to meet his hand.

Instead, he's met with Malcolm's broad shoulder, but as soon as Gil's hand makes contact, Malcolm jerks violently away, hard enough that chains around his wrists — chains that Gil didn't even know about and that make his stomach churn — pull taut, straining his arms and slicing into his skin as he tries to get away.

Gil holds his hands up, a sign of peace, trying to get Malcolm to stop throwing himself back, but the glassy look in the kid's eyes tells Gil that he's not entirely present and can't be talked down.

So Gil makes a decision and shuffles himself forward, tugging Malcolm into his body and folding him up in strong arms. He holds firm as Malcolm fights and cries and then eventually collapses into broken sobs that rip through his body and steal his breath away. 

Then he loosens his grip and holds him softly when Malcolm finally, _finally_ , seems to understand that Gil is truly there and not just a figment of his imagination (and Gil wonders just how bad his hallucinations must've been to inspire such fear and sadness).

"Gil?" Malcolm asks around hitching breaths. "Are you real?"

Gil has to swallow hard around the lump in his throat before he can answer, emotions getting the best of him. "Yeah, kid," he whispers, laying a hand on the back of Malcolm's neck to bring home the point and provide a grounding touch. "I'm real. It's all over. Watkins is dead and Jess and Ainsley are both safe."

The kid sags in his arms as the meaning of those words sink in, a flood of tears escaping as the adrenaline starts to fade.

Malcolm may be broken, but Gil will sure as hell be there to piece him back together.


End file.
